Sing Me a Stream of Us Through the Years
by Joelle8
Summary: The trails and tribulations of one very overlooked couple.


_**Sing Me a Stream of Us Through the Years**_

**i.**

They first met when they were seven years old.

She was lying down on a lawn chair, soaking in the sun while the rest of her relatives chatted with each other, putting up façades of kindness in easily seen-through attempts to extract information. The sun burned down on her freckly skin, bringing out the red in her hair, filling her with warmth-

Until a shadow blocked it from view.

Scowling, she sat up, flipping her auburn hair and lowering her sunglasses ever so slightly.

"Excuse me," she said, her voice laced with false sugary sweetness, "mind telling me why you're standing in the way of my sun?"

"It's not your sun," he answered. "It's everyone's. You don't own it."

The corner of her lips crooked up into a smirk. "Touché."

**ii.**

The next time they saw each other was a week after his ninth birthday.

"Well? Aren't you going to wish me happy birthday?" he asked, sprawling out on Grace Cahill's couch.

"Why should I?" She raised an eyebrow.

"Because we're cousins."

"I don't see you telling anyone else to wish you happy birthday."

"You're the only one in here."

"That's a terrible excuse. If you wanted, you could always just walk five feet outside and talk to someone else."

He grinned. "Guess I'm just lazy."

"That you are," she grinned back.

For a moment, there was silence. Then,

"Happy birthday."

**iii.**

Two years later, hopes and dreams came into the picture.

"Someday, I'm going to be an inventor," she declared proudly. "I'm going to make and run the most successful cosmetics line in the world!"

He snorted. "You want to make _make-up_? You're such a _girl_."

She glared at him. "No duh, Sherlock. Besides, like whatever you want to do is better!"

"It is," he declared proudly. "I want to be _famous_."

"Of course you do. You're a Janus. You _all _want that," she pointed out. "The chances of it happening are slim, though, let me tell you."

Now, it was his turn to glare. "It _will _happen! My mom's already helping me! She said I'm going to be the host of my very own show, _and _she'll get me a recording contract!"

"Oh?" Her eyebrows arched. "And you honestly think she's telling the truth?"

"Duh!" he exclaimed. "She promised! She said she'd do it! She said I'm good enough!"

"You're _eleven, _Jonah," she sighed. "No one's good enough for an actual career when they're eleven."

"Oh, yeah? What about the Olsen twins? They were acting when they were babies! And Lindsey Lohan did great in _The Parent Trap_! And what about Scott Baio, from _Happy Days_? If they could act when they were kids, so can I!"

"Whatever," she rolled her eyes. "Don't come crying to me when your mommy's failed you."

"Yeah? Well, don't come crying to me when you're wrong."

**iv.**

By the time they were twelve, they had both changed.

"Yo, wassup, mah homies?" Jonah called out to everyone he passed, his large, golden "$" necklace jingling as he swaggered. "Y'all like the bling?" he asked, fingering the necklace.

"No, actually, I don't," she told him matter-of-factly, hand on her hip. He turned to face her, and his eyes widened. Talk about looking different! Instead of wearing a simple graphic T-shirt, she wore a polo shirt under a form-fitting sweater vest. Her legs- since when had they been so _long_?- were barely covered by her khaki miniskirt that had replaced the jeans she used to wear, and she was made about five inches taller by strappy black heels.

The most striking difference, though, was her face. She wore a light layer of blush, hiding her freckles, and pale pink lipstick that matched the color of her polo. Her eyelashes seemed much darker and longer, and he was willing to bet anything that she had on eyeliner, too.

"_Sinead_?" he gasped. "What are you weari- I mean, shawty, wassup with your get-up?"

"I could ask you the same thing," she said, running her eyes up and down his body, from the baggy designer jeans that hung lower than anyone wanted to see, to his white muscle shirt under a leather jacket, to his golden 'bling.' "You look like an idiot."

"I ain't no idiot! Y'all got some problems, shawty-"

"Stop." Sinead held up a perfectly manicured hand. "Come with me."

She grabbed Jonah's wrist and dragged him into a far-off room, away from the crowds. Letting go of him, she locked the door so no one could interrupt, and turned to face him.

"Okay, talk. Why are you dressed like that?"

"Ain't you heard? I'm a gangsta, shawty-"

"If you call me 'shawty' _one more time_, I swear to God, I _will _slap you," Sinead narrowed her eyes menacingly. Jonah gulped.

"A'ight, a'ight! No more 'shawty'!"

"Good," Sinead said. "Now talk like a normal person, so I can actually understand you."

"Why should I-"

"Because if you don't, then you'll just be giving me another reason to slap you. And you know I will."

"Okay, okay! So violent! Are you sure you don't have some Tomas blood in you?"

_Slap._

"I am _nothing _like those moronic _barbarians_!" she hissed angrily as Jonah massaged his aching cheek.

"Well, you're doing a pretty terrible job of showing it!" he exclaimed. "Wait- wait, no, I take it back!" he declared as she raised her hand threateningly. She smirked and lowered it.

"That's better. Now, talk. Why are you acting so- so _weird_?"

"I told you. I'm a gangster now," Jonah shrugged. "Haven't you seen my show? _Who Wants to be a Gangsta? _I told you my mom would make me famous. She said that I have to pretend I'm on my show all the time, so I'll get better and better at acting like a gangster."

Sinead rolled her eyes. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard."

"Hey! Don't insult my mom!"

"Jonah, acting like a gangster makes you look- and sound- like an absolute fool!"

"How about you, huh? Why are you dressed like- like _that_?" he asked, looking her figure over again. "What's with the make-up, and the miniskirts, and all the _pink_?"

"It's called _growing up_, Jonah," Sinead sniffed haughtily, doing her best not to show her offense. "Obviously, you're incapable of it! Still worshipping your mother's every word like she's a god or something!"

For a pause, they just glared at each other. Then, Jonah's expression softened, and he asked quietly, "What _happened _to you, Sinead? You were always sarcastic and witty and all that, but you were never so _mean_."

"I told you, Jonah," she replied, just as softly, "I grew up."

With that, she unlocked the door and left, not looking back once.

**v.**

When they were fourteen years old, feelings came around.

"I need to talk to you," Jonah whispered in her ear as he walked past her, so only she could hear. "Meet me behind the mansion, in the garden, in ten minutes."

Sinead nodded subtly. She knew that whatever was up, it was serious- otherwise, Jonah wouldn't have spoken normally. He only ever did that when he meant business nowadays.

Ten minutes later, she strode into Grace's garden, and saw Jonah leaning against a stone arch, arms crossed. He straightened when he saw her.

"Hey," he greeted her, rubbing his neck almost awkwardly.

"Hey yourself," she replied, with a nod of her head.

"Want to sit?" he asked, gesturing to a nearby bench. She agreed, and they sat down on the bench, Jonah still not looking her in the eye.

"What's wrong?" she asked, her voice concerned.

He looked conflicted for a moment before starting, "Listen, Sinead, I- I don't know how to say this, but-"

"You know we're not dating, right?" she cut him off, grinning. "Because you sound like you're breaking up with me or something."

Jonah chuckled, though it was slightly hollow. "In a way, I am. Sinead, I… I don't think we can be friends anymore."

A pause. Then, "Oh? And why not?" Sinead shot back, unable to keep a bit of the hurt she felt from seeping out.

"My mom… she said that- that when we were younger, it was okay, because, well, we were younger- but now, we have to grow up and realize that we're from different branches, so we have to be enemies."

"And you're just going to listen to her? Blindly do whatever she says? Does our friendship _really _mean that little to you?"

"No! I argued with her, Sinead, I did, but she wouldn't change her mind!"

"So? Break the rules for once! It won't kill you!"

"Maybe not me, but it _will _kill my career," he mumbled, significantly quieter, looking down at his feet now.

"What do you mean, it'll kill your career?" Sinead asked sharply.

Jonah took a deep breath. "My mom… she said that if I keep being friends with you, she'll make sure my career falls into ruins. I- I love what I do, Sinead. And my fans would be devastated; I can't help that happen."

"So you're choosing your job and thousands of people you've never met over me, your friend for seven years," Sinead concluded coldly. Jonah was silent, and Sinead knew that she was right. "Well, that's just peachy, isn't it? Honestly, if that's how you set your priorities, then I feel stupid for even being your friend in the first place. Goodbye, Jonah."

"Sinead, wait-" he grabbed her arm and tugged her back. She stumbled as she turned and fell into him, grabbing onto his shirt to steady herself. Only once she was completely sure that she wouldn't fall did she look up into Jonah's face.

They were much too close.

She could feel his breath on her, could see the panic- and something else, something she couldn't identify no matter how much she used her Ekaterina intelligence- in his eyes. Before she could fully process what was happening, they were both leaning in, and as her eyelids fluttered closed, their lips met halfway.

It was short and chaste, but it was Sinead's first kiss, nonetheless, and she was sure it was Jonah's, too. After they broke apart, they both just blinked at each other, shocked. Jonah, realizing that he was still holding her hand, let go of it like it was burning.

"I- um- well, I- sorry," he stammered, an unmistakable blush rising on his cheek.

"It's okay," Sinead replied much too quickly, her voice an octave higher than usual, just as her face was twice as rosy as usual. "It was just- just in the heat of the moment, right? It didn't- didn't mean anything."

"Right," Jonah nodded. "Didn't mean a thing."

Deep down, they both knew he was lying. Despite this- or maybe even because of it- Sinead told him a quick, "See you around," before running off in the other direction.

Jonah stared after her.

**vi.**

During the two years after that incident, both of them became different people.

Jonah embraced his fame even more; he learned more instruments, wrote more songs, gained more fans. His life began to revolve not only around pleasing his mother, but also around giving his fans something to cheer for. He didn't want to be one of those superstars who people only liked because the publicity had been worked right; he wanted to prove that he had actual talent, that he _deserved_ his stardom, no matter what anyone said. Life became more and more about fame for him, until he honestly didn't know who was Jonah-the-Gangsta or just plain Jonah.

Meanwhile, Sinead was slowly rising in status at her Westwood High. She was determined to become the most popular girl in school, whatever it took. So she wore shorter skirts, tighter tops, and more make-up than ever. One of her hobbies became teasing people, putting them down, making them feel like they were no better than filth. She mimicked all the other popular girls, saying "like" after every other word, not going a day without showing off the new clothes and electronics she owned. At last, she was the undisputed Queen Bee of her school. Nothing could faze her; nothing could make her fall off her throne.

Not even when her "friends" talked about how cute and talented Jonah Wizard was.

**vii.**

After the reading of Grace Cahill's will, Jonah talked to Sinead again.

It wasn't by accident. When Sinead and her brothers had accepted the Clue, Jonah had felt a sort of… panic well up inside him, for some inexplicable reason. When he and his father rushed out of the giant room, Jonah handed the Clue to his father, telling him to wait there for a minute, and then ran after Sinead's distant figure before Broderick could say anything. She and her brothers were already walking down the path towards their awaiting limo.

"Yo, Sinead! Wait up!" he called. She whirled around, looking the tiniest bit stunned before her eyes narrowed.

"What do you want, Jonah?" Her voice was like ice. "My brothers and I have, like, places to go, people to see."

"I need to talk to you," he said. "_Alone_," he added, shooting a look at her brothers. "It's important."

"Fine," Sinead snapped, not looking at all happy about it. "Ned, Ted- go to the limo. I'll meet you there in a bit."

Ned and Ted looked like they wanted to argue, but one look at their sister's stern face was enough. They continued walking towards the limo, and Sinead turned back to Jonah.

"Well, we're alone now. What do you want?" she questioned.

"Why're y'all doin' this? You're gonna get hurt," he told her, his voice quiet but fervent.

"Why are _you_, like, doing this?" She shot back at him. "And why do you even, like, _care _about me getting hurt? We're not, like, friends anymore, you know."

"That don't mean I don't care," he said, looking her straight in the eye, brown on blue.

"You don't, like, have to pretend to be, like, a gangster around me," she told him.

"You don't have to say 'like' all the time around me," he countered.

"It's a habit," she shrugged. "Listen, Jonah, I- I'm flattered that you care, but I, li- I mean, I won't get hurt."

"You can't promise that."

"But I can do my best," she smiled. She reached up one hand, and lightly ran her fingers along his cheek, sending tingles shooting down his spine.

"Promise?"

"Promise," she told him. She heard someone call her name, and she bit her lip. "I should, li- I should go now."

"Okay," Jonah nodded, letting go of her. "Remember your promise, Sinead."

"I will," she said, and with one last smile, she ran down to join her brothers.

…

When Jonah heard about the explosion, and that Sinead was in the hospital, he felt a ripping in his chest. It was like someone had torn his heart in half. His head pounded, and he wanted to beg his father to let him go back- but he couldn't. He knew he couldn't. That would do the opposite of helping him win the Hunt, and then, who knew what his mother would do.

So instead, late at night, while his father was asleep, he sent an anonymous bouquet of flowers to her, and hoped she would know who they were from.

**viii.**

A month and a half later, the Hunt was over.

By some miracle, Amy and Dan Cahill had managed to unite the competitors- they agreed that however nice it would be to possess the secret to alchemy, it was too much power for just one branch to wield. Fiske Cahill- Grace's brother, apparently- would destroy the all the Clues, and then, hopefully, with time, the feud between the four- no, five- Branches of the Cahill family would be over.

The first thing Jonah did when he came back to America was go to Sinead's house, under the guise that he was going to tell that Starlings how the Hunt turned out. Which wasn't a complete lie; he _was _going to tell them. But it wasn't the reason he had volunteered to go; no, he volunteered because he needed to see her.

And so, bling-less, pants pulled up to their proper place on his waist, sunglasses and a hoodie disguising his identity, he knocked on the front door of the Starlings' mansion. After a moment, Sinead opened it.

Her arm was in a cast, and she had a limp. She looked worn and exhausted and battered, wore yellow pajamas, and wasn't wearing any make-up for the first time in four years, but she looked more beautiful than ever to him.

"Can I come in?" he asked tentatively.

"What are you doing here?"

"Can I come in?" he repeated.

As a way of answer, she stepped aside. Jonah walked into her home, and Sinead said, "You're in. What are you doing here?"

"The Hunt is over," he told her. "No one won."

"What do you mean?"

He explained everything to her, and by the end of it, her jaw had nearly hit the ground. Finally, she spluttered out, "W- Well, then- that's just- wow."

"I know," Jonah agreed. There was a pause.

"Well," Sinead began, "if that was all you were here about, then you can go now-"

"That's not the only reason I'm here," he interrupted her.

"Oh? What's the other reason, then?"

He walked towards her, until they were just as close as they had been in Grace's garden when they were fourteen. "What do you think?" he breathed before closing the distance between them.

This kiss was so, so different from their last one. Their lips moved against each other in sync, a perfect fit. Jonah tangled his fingers in Sinead's auburn hair, relishing in how _right _this felt.

Finally, they broke apart, and Jonah wrapped his arms around Sinead, burying his face in her hair. "You broke your promise," he reminded her.

"No I didn't," she retorted. "I promised to do my best not to get hurt. And I did."

He laughed. "Once again, you prove that you're smarter than me."

"You should be used to it by now," she chortled. "I liked your flowers, by the way."

Jonah grinned into her hair.

**ix.**

It took Jonah two years to break the news to his mother.

"Mom, I'm dating Sinead Starling."

Cora Wizard chuckled, not looking up from her paperwork. "Nice joke, Jonah."

"I'm not joking."

Now, she looked up, and saw that his face was entirely serious. She set down her pen with a heavy sigh and stood. "Jonah, you disappointed me enough by losing the 39 Clues. I didn't disown you- even though anyone else would have- because you are my son, and I love you." Her sugary sweet smile somehow made Jonah doubt that. "But I will _not _stand for you dating that Ekaterina _filth_-"

"Don't call her that!" Jonah shouted. "She's not _filth_, she's smart and beautiful and wonderful and _I love her_!"

Cora's eyes widened, and she stared at her son in shock. Finally, she said, "If you really feel that way, then I suppose that I can't stop you from being with her."

Jonah's face lit up. "Really? Thank you so much, Mom, I-"

"But I _can _disown you," she finished. "I can make sure that you're no longer legally my son, that you're no longer a part of the Janus branch."

"Actually, you can't," Jonah retorted. "I'm eighteen years old. I'm a legal adult. I'm no longer under your guardianship; in fact, if I wanted to, I could even take away your seat as head of the Janus branch."

Though her skin was dark, Cora visibly paled. "No. No, no, no. That's not possible."

"It is. In fact, I've talked to a lot of the other Janus, and they think you're a mad tyrant," he told her seriously, a sparkle of humor in his eyes. "They'd love to be rid of you."

Cora's mouth opened and closed like a fish's.

"According to the Janus rules, if the majority of the branch wants a leader to step down, that leader has to. And I have here a list of signatures from nearly every Janus, confirming that they'd rather me be leader." He took a sheet of paper out of his pocket, and Cora snatched it, her eyes scanning it. Sure enough, there were hundreds of signatures, from people around the world.

Her son was right. She had to step down.

She sucked in a shuddering breath. "Fine, then. Fine. I know when I'm defeated." She looked Jonah straight in the eye. "I'll clear the office tomorrow, and then you can have it."

Jonah, though surprised at how calmly his mother was taking this, merely nodded. "Okay."

…

The next morning, Cora was found with dried blood around a gaping hole in her chest, dagger in hand. A note on her pillow read, _I will leave on my own terms._

**x.**

At twenty-five years old, Jonah gave his most memorable concert ever.

Sinead, of course, was in the front row, amidst all of her boyfriend's screaming fans. Microphone held up to Jonah's mouth, he announced, "This song is called 'With You' and it's for my girlfriend, Sinead Starling!"

His fans screamed even louder as he began singing:

"_We started out as friends_

_When we were really young_

_We'd sit and talk and laugh,_

_And grin and play and run._

"And_ girl, no matter what,_

_Even though you could be cold_

_When I saw you, the sun would shine_

_And I knew I wanted to grow old_

_With you, you, you, with you, girl._

_With you, with you, with you._

"_One day I was stupid,_

_I forgot myself, _

_And I ended us, I hurt you bad,_

_I took away my joy._

_But I always regretted doing that,_

'_Cause I knew it was wrong,_

_And I still wanted you, still needed to_

_Be with, be with, be with_

_With you, you, you, girl_

_With you, you, you, with you._

"_And through all the years,_

_And all the troubles and strife,_

_We finally did it- we worked it out-_

_You're a constant in my head._

_I wanna be with you forever,_

_Through thick and through thin,_

_So Sinead…" _

Jonah got down on one knee, pulled a sparkling diamond ring out of his pocket, and looked towards where Sinead was sitting, her hands over her mouth. "Will you marry me?" he asked, a hopeful grin on his face.

And there was nothing Sinead could do except for run onstage and fling her arms around him, screaming, "Yes, yes, yes!" for the world to hear.

_**Yay! Another unusual pairing! I'm not sure this is my favorite OneShot ever (though it's certainly my longest); it's a bit OOC, I think, and the ending is cheesy. Not to mention that the title is weird, and the song sucks. But I hope it was at least a little good, nonetheless. :) Please, please, please review!**_

**_Oh, and by the way, I know you're thinking, "Sinead is the same age as Amy!" But can you ever remember that being said in the books? No. Because it wasn't. She goes to Westwood High, and her twin brothers bully freshmen, which means that during the Hunt, she's at least a sophomore- which means she's about 16. Since Jonah's age wasn't specified either (as far as I know), I made him the same age._**

**_-Joelle8_**


End file.
